First World Communication
by Dr. Breifs Cat
Summary: Romantic overtures, honesty and the other side of a conversation.  Invincible Iron Man 500.1.  COMIC-VERSE.


**First-World Communication**

Pepper has programmed her phone so that everyone in the office has their own unique ringtone. Tony's ringtone is the musical lead in of Def Leppard's _Bringin' on the Heartbreak, _circa '81. He was five when the song was released, a criticism of his love for '80's music which amounts to exactly nil. In Pepper's opinion, '80's music is barely short of universally terrible. She fondly remembers the 90's - the music scene of her teen years. The again, her CD collection boosted an impressive library of boy band hits, so her older and more cynical self wonders if perhaps she isn't in any position to take issue with someone else's taste.

She's composing an e-mail when _Bringin' on the Heartbreak_ 's opening riff begins screaming from her phone. Pepper had been expecting the call. Her phone lies easy accessible on the desk beside her computer, but she lets the first few seconds of the song loop while she finishes the thought she had been writing. She didn't know the tune prior to Tony hacking into her phone and changing the ringtone, but she is quite familiar with it now. Her previous ringtone for him had been the Iron Man leitmotif from Henry's _Avengers_ show. Tony argued that should be Henry's ringtone, as it was the music that played every time he appeared onscreen. Henry's ringtone is not unique. His, like all of the old Order members, is Five for Fighting's _California Justice._

Because she recognizes the ringtone, she barely spares a glance to the LCD screen that informs her _Tony Stark calling... _complete with blinking ellipses, nor does she need to look at it to know exactly where on the touch screen to hit _Accept._

"Stark Resilient, Pepper Potts, speaking." She knows answering her personal cell phone that way when Tony calls is ridiculous, but she spends so much time on the phone for the company that it became a habit distressingly quickly. Pepper is officially the CEO, but most days, she feels more like a receptionist. Tony is still the one in high demand. The majority of her job is still making his appointments and assuring that he shows up. The rest of her time is spent glued to her headset or answering e-mails.

"Hey, Pep. It's me," he chirps. Tony has been in New York for the past few days on assorted bits of personal business. He reports to Manhattan quite regularly for the Avengers, but the reasons for this trip had extended passed his responsibilities as a member. Tony had been very tight-lipped about those reasons, which is usually a bad sign.

The therapist he saw as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. has dropped off the grid, so lately Pepper has taken to dropping hints about his attending a meeting. Tony hasn't been to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in years, but short of having a professional to talk to, making an appearance was the most effective way to straighten his head out. He had lots of excuses as to why he couldn't or shouldn't go - he was too busy, he was not truly anonymous, he didn't **need** it. Eventually, he decided - not agreed, or given in, or compromised, but _decided _- to go while he was in the city. Away from the company, he had more free time. Everyone at the meeting would know his name, but at least they were not his neighbors. Broxton, Oklahoma, proud home of Stark Resilient, had 8 churches, all of which hosted meetings attended by people he was likely to see every single day.

Pepper had told him to call her - before, during, after, whenever he needed to talk to her. Judging from the time, this was an "after" call.

"How did it go?"

"Good. It went good." He corrects himself before she can say anything. "Sorry. It went well." Tony is a well-spoken man when he feels the need to be. Not as much of an orator as some of his awe-inspiring superhero compatriots, but there is a power behind well-chosen words that he is an expert at harnessing. He knows how to convince the skeptical, how to sell himself and his products, how to influence the obstinate.

His casual apology stands out, another red flag. She's not sure she can believe him. "How well?"

"I..uh..well, I didn't throw up, so that was plus."

"You got up and you talked." It is a sentence, but she says it like it's a question. The entire reason she wanted him to go was so that he could talk about his problems to people who would listen and understand. She knows Tony has trouble expressing his feelings or his doubts to people that matter to him. He needs an unbiased audience to get through it, or else he clams up and starts using humor to deflect.

"I just told my story the best I could. Without getting...y'know, without getting too specific."

Relieved, she says, "That suspension of disbelief can be a killer."

"Heh," he snorts. "Right. Once you get into the Fin Fang Foom of it all, you can lose your audience."

Clicking away at the keyboard, Pepper says, "That, and it would sound suspiciously like bragging."

"So, anyway, look..." he begins. Something in his voice is different. The self-deprecating edge remains, but he sounds serious, almost grave.

Pepper sucks in a breath and holds it.

"I'm just gonna come out and say this, awkward though it is. Talking about that stuff makes me feel... I don't want to be alone tonight. I can make it from here to you by dinner."

It's a crude offer, cushioned in kinder words. He's lonely and emotionally vulnerable. As per usual, his instinct is to look for the company of a woman, but this proposition is a twist on his usual urge. This time Tony is asking for hers to be the company that he uses as a salve to drown out his ill feelings until he can lock himself inside of his shell again.

The truth is, Pepper had been expecting an overture of some sort for weeks now. Historically, the depth of his feelings for her had been something that Pepper found hard to quantify. His behavior towards her was always erratic, quickly moving from friendly to seductive and back again. It wasn't until he sacrificed his mind and his shell that she realized it was a matter of self-control. He deliberately held back, forcing himself to behave one way, but there were occasions where his mouth - or his hands - moved faster than his brain. She had known his complete honesty only briefly, but it had been enough. She remembered his hands and his mouth and his body making love to her. She remembered beautiful words from a man too simple to understand why he'd never said them before.

He was in love with her, a fact that Pepper suspected she understood far better than he did. His mind is too complicated to be honest. There are too many layers, too many conflicts. Too many reasons why being with her would be the greatest thing that ever happened to him and too many reasons why it is a terrible idea.

Either way, there is only one reason that really matters in the long run, and that is that _she_ is not in love with _him_.

Not anymore.

She had him when he was honest, and Pepper knows Tony well enough to know that she will never have that again.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Pepper says simply. "Anyway, I'm at work. Gotta go, but I'll call you back later, okay?" This is a conversation she never intended to have over the phone. There are things that need to be said face-to-face. She wants to be in control. Pepper wants to be prepared.

Tony, of course, is not used to a 'no.' "Well, wait, I -"

"I don't-" she begins, rapidly losing what small amount of control she had over the situation. "Please don't be all _Tony Stark_ at me right now." He's talking over her, chanting her name in an attempt to be heard over her counters.

"_Pepper_," he says overly loudly. She isn't talking anymore. She isn't any of the things she wants to be. "Why would you-"

"I can't do this, Tony, I can't," Pepper says, cutting him off. Her voice drops to an urgent whisper because their office space is small and she doesn't want everyone they work with to have the sordid details. "I can't lie down for you and make it all better. I'm more than that. I need more than that. I tried, I did. You already gave me everything you had. We - I just...it didn't work. It wasn't enough."

"We - We -" Pepper can hear him gaping into the phone, trying to assign some meaning to her words other than what he knows she said. Finally, almost childishly, he asks, "_Really_? We did? I mean - We _finally did_?" He sounds almost excited about the prospect, but there's a sobering reality. "And I don't-"

"It was, um, when you were on the run," Pepper clarifies, unsettled. "I mean, I've asked you about what you remember about that time and you've always said..."

"Ah," he acknowledges, barely above a whisper. "No. I don't - I didn't remember."

"I'm sorry," she says, "You must...you must be so mad." ("No.") "I mean, if it was me -" ("No.") "-and something like this happened, I'd feel..." ("Of course.") "- I'm sorry -" ("Of course.") "- and I didn't want it to be like this. I didn't want it to be awkward. This is awkward, right?" She's babbling. Tony knows it is one of her tells, the best way to gauge how uncomfortable she is.

"Incredibly awkward, yes."

"I will completely, completely understand if you are really angry at me right now."

"No, no, it's - I'm _embarrassed_ more than - "

"I was afraid you might be seeing something that wasn't there and -"

"_misreading_ signals or -"

"I'm sorry, I just...I didn't know how to tell you, I didn't want to tell you like this."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Don't worry about it."

He hangs up.

Pepper stares at her phone for a long moment. The shock of what he just did has made her oddly numb. She had thought that once they jumped past this hurdle, she would be relieved, but she is not. Belatedly, Pepper realizes that she forgot to tell Tony that she loves him.

In her mind, when Pepper practiced this conversation - and she was always in control in her imagination, always looking him in the eye - she stressed that she cared about him. It is such a cliched band-aid and she is sure it would hurt him more than console him, but selfishly, Pepper needs him _know_. He is her best friend. She loves him. She would do anything for him.

After she arrives home from work some two hours later, Pepper cannot remember a single thing she did after Tony hung up. Her mind is blank and she wonders if this is how he feels.

She finds herself wondering how he feels often. About anything. How it feels to be smarter than everyone else, how it feels to make machines that slaughter people, how his repulsors fit in his palms and if he hates living in a hotel as much as she does.

She does not even drop her keys on the table before rummaging through her purse for her phone. There is no ring after she hits call. Just a canned message:

"You've reached Tony Stark. If you have this number, you've done something brilliant. Congratulations. Now please don't waste my time."

She doesn't leave a message. If Tony has turned his phone off, it is a good indication of something major going on in the Iron Man department. All messages he receives are forwarded straight into his helmet's audio, anyway. Thanks to the armor being a part of his body, Tony does not even need to be suited up to hear the playback in his brain, streaming as the message is made. Pepper drops her keys on the dresser and picks up the television remote.

Not a single news channel is covering a super-crime or catastrophe.

She realizes with an insulted sniff, "He screened me."

Pepper calls again, and is again diverted straight to voicemail. "Hey," she echoes, "it's me. I just wanted to know what you were doing." She sets her jaw, knowing that _who_ he is doing is probably the better question. "When are you coming home?" Thirty seconds of awkward pause pass before she ends her message with a simple, "That's all." Another ten tick by before she adds, "Bye."

Pepper clicks to end the call and throws the phone down onto the couch cushions. Tony never told her why he left and he never gave a time frame for coming back. He offered to return tonight and she rejected him.

Her phone trills at her. Pepper picks it up. The screen reads _1 New Text Message. _She never got around to programming unique text rings for anyone. She is sure it is from Tony, but there is a chance she'll be disappointed.

The message reads:  
"How's now? Is now good?"

"Yeah," she says, opening the window, "Now's good."

In her mind, she begins practicing a new conversation. She can't have him honest. But when he comes in the window smelling like some woman's cheap perfume, Pepper decides that, for now, she is willing to settle for faithful.

She wonders how he feels when he turns out to be not as smart as he thinks he is.

The new conversation will be about her expectations, and whether or not he's up to the challenge.

* * *

Author's Note: I wish I could claim responsibility for Tony's awesome voicemail message, but that is from an issue of Thor. I also wish I could claim responsibility for the idea of writing the other side of the conversation, but it was Robot Iconography's suggestion.

Disclaimers: You know, my author's notes might have that covered, this go-round. It's all about someone else.


End file.
